Finale
by iamthetv
Summary: The final thoughts of Grey Warden. Contains major end-game spoilers and minor mid-game spoilers. Rated T for safety.


**The final thoughts of Grey Warden. Contains major end-game spoilers and minor mid-game spoilers. Rated T for safety. I did not write the two quotes from Andruil. Those come from the in-game codex.**

"Respect the sacrifice of my children

Know that your passing shall nourish them in turn.

That is my Way."

-Andruil, Goddess of the Hunt

Arawen Mahariel knew these were the final moments of her rather short life. She did not fear the death looming before her, but rather embraced it. It meant that she had won, the blight was finished and Ferelden could rejoice.

Arawen's entire life had led her to this very moment. From beginning to end, she had been chosen by the gods, and she knew this. It was not pride, but simple practicality.

Arawen had easily refused Morrigan's offer. The part of her that she kept secret loved Alistair too much to allow him to do such a thing with such a woman. Her love for him was also what saved him from Arl Eamon's proposed shackles of kinghood. It was also what made her leave him behind, at the gates of Denerim. For the first and last time, she told Alistair that she loved him, and then ran inside the city. A soldier's cry had followed her, "Kill those godless bastards!" Yes, the darkspawn would be godless very soon.

Arawen was not surprised that her life was being replayed before her eyes, even as the archdemon's taint sought to destroy her vivid soul. It recoiled, fought , and bored its way in.

Tamlen. For so long, Arawen's heart had ached for her lost clan brother. Often, she had been told that they were a perfect match, even if they did have a tendency to find trouble when they were together, and she had agreed. If it had not been for Tamlen, she would not have found her great strength, nor the path she had been so very ceremoniously thrust upon.

Something that had previously only been bent, broke in Arawen the night she had thrust Alistair's blade into Tamlen's chest. Alistair had tried to reassure her afterwards, had held her, stroked her hair, and told her it was the merciful thing to do. She had prayed to her chosen goddess, Andruil as she stood vigil over Tamlen's body all that long, miserable night.

"Strike true, do not waver

And let not your prey suffer.

That is my Way."

-Andruil, Goddess of the Hunt

When the morning sun broke through the early dawn mist, Arawen had buried her first love and planted an oak seed above his heart. Tamlen's two deaths would not be in vain.

The heat and the pain were becoming nearly unbearable as the archdemon's taint struggled with Arawen. An eternity in a split second was all she had left. The names of her new, and much beloved clan fell from burning lips. And then, "Alistair".

Alistair. Arawen had been amused by him from the moment she met him. He had let her lead when she should have followed and fell in love with her when all she did was what was right. They had teased, joked, and played. Each one slowly healing the other of old hurts.

At first, Arawen had refused to believe that she could feel anything for a shem other than simple friendship. But then, the rose. She knew Alistair did not understand the Dalish customs, that by giving her a gift he was essentially tying his life to hers. She accepted the rose however, and swore to herself that she would protect his life and his happiness as though he did understand her customs.

Still Arawen did not tell Alistair of her love for him. It seemed an impossibly complex thing to put into three such simple words. Instead she had Wynne magically preserve her rose and wore it around her neck on a simple golden necklace she had found on their travels. Alistair ran his fingers over it when they made love, and she knew he understood.

An army gathered, a tormented hero put to death, a Queen rethroned, an archdemon hunted. This was her song, her legacy. The Hero of Ferelden.

Arawen's fingers fall from the heavy blade she had run through the old god's serpentine neck. The sky above her explodes and her soul crushes the taint of the archdemon. She falls back, arms splayed, a smile on her lips.

Alistair watches as a single red rose petal floats from the sky above him. He catches it gently between thumb and forefinger and turns his back on all that he has lost.


End file.
